


Remnant of the Remnants

by JuneLuxray



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Gen, No Smut, The courier is aro/ace, no ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 14:46:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18478411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuneLuxray/pseuds/JuneLuxray
Summary: After abandoning her previous training to work as a courier to work on a personal mission, Lily White finds herself at the end of an assassination attempt. After being rescued in the nick of time and surviving, she's left to solve her own attempted murder and recover the platinum chip she was tasked with taking to New Vegas while contending with her past and her own mission to find anyone remaining of the people she lost.Courier story/FONV run-through.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started replaying FONV and came up with an overly involved backstory for my Courier. I got to writing for fun. I have no idea if I'll finish this or if it'll get any attention, but fuck, at least I'll have fun writing what I do. Sorry if this chapter is rushed. Enjoy?
> 
> To those who were waiting for an update to my Persona fics, don't worry, I've got an In-Between Palaces WIP that's almost ready.

She shivered in the night. Her backpack rustled softly as she readjusted the straps over her shoulders.

Night had fallen over the world, but she had walked this road before. She knew the feeling of old, cracked asphalt under her boots. She wasn’t close enough yet to see the bright lights of the city in the distance, but she knew it’d be visible soon enough. In the meanwhile, her only light in the night was the gentle glow of the full moon above.

The only sounds was her footsteps, her bag rustling, and the whistling breeze that carried the cries of the nocturnal wildlife. It was too late in the year for cicadas to come out and sing their songs, but somewhere in the distance, she could hear a great horned owl’s song-- _hoot, hoot-hoot, hoo, hoo!_ It was intermingled with the screaming howls of coyotes somewhere nearby-- _ooww- oww- oww!_

It was one of the things she liked about walking the desert at night. The Mojave had been largely spared the Great War, and some of the native wildlife, in refugia, had persisted. Few places on Earth were like it, and it was one of her favorite places in the world. _It’ll be a pleasant walk to the Strip this time of year_ , she thought to herself, _and it’s a good opportunity to spread my fliers. I’ve still got my mission._

As she walked, the lights of a settlement she had planned to stop briefly in for supper and to post one of her fliers in came into view. Goodsprings had been on the indirect route to Vegas she was taking, and she figured it was a quiet, good-as-any place to stop without getting jumped by Powder Gangers, Jackals, or Vipers. Seemed like no matter how many she killed on her way, there was always more.

She made her way into the bar and ordered a dinner of brahmin steak-- the last job had paid well, and she felt herself worthy of the treat-- with banana yucca fruit for dessert. She tipped well and presented her flier to the barkeep, a woman with short brown hair that gave her a funny look upon reading it.

“You want me to post this?”

“I’ll pay you,” she said, “to keep it up on the wall. It’s very important to me.”

The barkeep looked over the poster again and frowned. “I can’t even read this… is this some tribal language?”  
  
She nodded. “That it is. The people I’m looking for, if they’re out there, will be able to understand it. No funny business, I promise-- I’m just looking for people and don’t want to be scammed or have my time wasted by someone I’m not looking for.” She pushed a bag of caps over the bar. “There’s a hundred caps in here to keep it on the wall. Please.”

The barkeep stared at her for a moment, then sighed and nodded. “I’ll put it up because you asked nicely. Take your caps back; I have space on the walls.”

“I insist.” the courier said. “You’re doing me a service. It’s only fair I pay.”

The barkeeper gave her a funny look again, sighed, and nodded. She took the bag of caps and pinned the poster up where anyone could see. “Where you headed?” she asked out of curiosity as she did so.

“New Vegas. Got to deliver a package; I’m with the Mojave Express.”  
  
“You gonna put up more of these posters while you’re there?”   
  
“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well…” The woman frowned. “You sure you don’t want to stay the night? I’ve got spare rooms and the hundred caps _more_ than covers a few nights. You must be tired from walking here from Primm, and it’s awful dangerous out here at night.”   
  
“It’s dangerous anywhere out here, day or night, and I appreciate the offer, but I have to get going. Plus, it’s easier to move under cover of night.”   
  
“Yeah, but... alone…” The barkeep sighed. “Alright, honey, but if you change your mind, don’t hesitate to come back.”   
  
“Will do. Thanks for the supper; it was delicious.”

With that, she picked her bag back up and headed out. As she headed out the back of the bar, she noticed a hill not far ahead, leading up to the town graveyard. After a moment’s pause, she decided to head up the hill. She trekked upward, her bag bouncing along, and walked across the graveyard to the edge of the hill by the water tower. In the distance, she could see the lights of the Strip and the massive tower looming over the Strip that was the Lucky 38-- the destination of her package.

The cold desert air whipped around her, whistling in her ears as locks of auburn, blown loose from her ponytail, wavered in the wind against the sides of her face. Her feet ached, but she still had miles to go, and finally, she sighed and pulled herself away from the view.

She was halfway across the graveyard when something flew through the air and landed at her feet. Instinctively, she jumped back, but instead of being met with the force of an explosive, a bright, blinding light erupted from the grenade, knocking her senseless and on her back. Her vision went white, and when it came back, it was blurry, almost impossible to make out what was going on in the darkness. She could hear men grunting and feel her hands and ankles being bound. She opened her mouth to scream, but was silenced by a man thrusting a gag over her mouth.

One of them propped her up, onto her knees, and she blinked rapidly to try to see her assailants-- two men, Khans from the looks of it, alongside a man with greasy black hair and a black and white checkered loudsuit who was smoking idly.

“Time to cash out.” he said calmly.

“Will you just get this over with?” one of the Khans grumbled. The man in the checkered suit held a hand up.

“Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face,” he said, relaxed, “but I ain’t a fink, dig?”

The courier rubbed her wrists together, tugging in vain against the rope holding her. She stretched them out, trying to break free-- the rope around her wrists and ankles refused to budge, and the scream she tried to unleash was muffled by the gag around her mouth.

_No. Not like this. I haven’t found them yet._

“... You’ve made your last delivery, kid.”

She bristled and glared at him, then went back to desperately rubbing the rope together. The man kept speaking. “Sorry you got twisted up in this scene. From where you’re kneeling, it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck.”

The rope wasn’t going to break. She picked her head up and glared daggers into him, meeting his eyes with a message she tried to convey silently-- I am going to haunt the shit out of you, buddy. Nevertheless, the smug, shitty city boy kept talking.

“Truth is… the game was rigged from the start.”

_I’m sorry, everyone. I failed you. At least maybe now I’ll be with--_

**_Bang!_ **

White, then oblivion.

* * *

"Doc Mitchell! Doc Mitchell, wake up! _WAKE UP!_ It's an emergency!"

The man groaned and rubbed his eyes at the sound of someone pounding on the door desperately, incessantly. The doctor pulled himself out of bed and hurried to the front door, readying himself for whatever medical emergency awaited him. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn't Victor, the old securitron, covered in dust and dirt, and Sunny Smiles, the town guardswoman, holding a limp body of a woman with a bleeding hole on her forehead. Victor stood behind her as the desperate woman panted, out of breath. 

He held the door open, and she followed him to his operating room, placing the victim on the operating bed he gestured to.

"She's the victim of a robbery," Sunny explained, "by some city boy and Khans. Trudy's distracting them in the saloon; Victor dug her up and gave her to me to carry inside. I don't know if she can be saved, but--"  
  
"We'll see." the doctor said. "Good work, both you, and Victor. Do me a favor and keep an eye out-- make sure those men don't realize she's here."

Sunny nodded and headed outside while the doctor pulled on a pair of gloves, sighing to himself all the while.

"This is the world... good people getting hurt all around." He began cleaning off the wound. "I just hope I got her in time."

 


	2. Chapter 2

After hours of surgery, the patient was stable. Mitchell sighed in relief and exhaustion as her vitals stabilized, and the last pieces of bullet were safely discarded, out of her brain, which was remarkably intact. There would be a permanent scar, a permanent dent, in her forehead, but it was better than death. The doctor felt a quiet sense of pride over his work as he double-checked the IV he had stuck in her arm and the heart rate monitor tab stuck over her thumb.

He threw a blanket over her and looked out the window-- it was already past noon. Hours of careful needlework had carried him through the morning, and he sighed in relief. His mind flitted to several hours ago-- part way through surgery, he had heard Sunny Smiles come inside and say something about how the perpetrators were gone, and Trudy sent him a mutfruit pie to eat for breakfast. She placed it in his fridge and dropped off a heavy-sounding bag on the floor, stating that Victor had recovered the victim’s belongings.

With an exhausted sigh, Mitchell headed to the restroom, washed himself up, and cut out a slice of the mutfruit pie. He ate it quickly and began rifling through the patient’s belongings-- he felt a smidgeon of guilt over it, but it was necessary. If she had next of kin he could contact, this was the only way.

He found a doctor’s bag and various medical supplies, a folder full of courier manifests, and another folder full of personal documents. He rifled through the papers, frowning as he tried in vain to make sense of most of them. Most appeared to be letters in an unknown tribal language he couldn’t decipher. Outside of that, he extracted two slightly crumpled documents that were in English-- and his brows lifted as he read them.

_The University of the New California Republic - Shady Sands_

_The Board of Regents of the University of New California System, on the completion of appropriate coursework, has conferred Lillian E. White the degree of Bachelor of Science: Biology, magna cum laude, together with all honors, rights, and privileges belonging to that degree._

_Awarded in Shady Sands, New California Republic, this eighteenth day of May, two thousand two hundred and seventy-five._

The second one read:

_The Medical University and Teaching Hospital of Shady Sands, University of the New California Republic - Shady Sands._

_This certifies that Lillian E. White has completed the required coursework and passed all examinations entailed by the New California Republic Board of Medical Examiners and is thus awarded the title of Doctor of Internal Medicine and is licensed to practice medicine._

_Awarded in Shady Sands, New California Republic, this nineteenth day of May, two thousand two hundred and seventy-nine._

Mitchell frowned. “Why in the world is a woman with a medical doctorate working as a courier…?” he questioned aloud. He stared at the degrees a moment longer before putting them back carefully. “So her name is Lillian White… good to know.” He turned his attention back to the shipping manifests and extracted the latest one. “Let’s see what those thieves were after…”

_INSTRUCTIONS_

_Deliver the package at the north entrance to the Vegas Strip, by way of Freeside. An agent of the recipient will meet you at the checkpoint, take possession of the package, and pay for the delivery. Bring the payment to Johnson Nash at the Mojave Express agency in Primm._

_Bonus on completion: 250 caps._

_MANIFEST_

_This package contains:_

_One (1) Oversized Poker Chip, composed of Platinum._

_CONTRACT PENALTIES_

_You are an authorized agent of the Mojave Express Package until delivery is complete and payment has been processed, contractually obligated to complete this transaction and materially responsible for any malfeasance or loss. Failure to deliver the proper recipient may result in forfeiture of your advance and bonus, criminal charges, and/or pursuit by mercenary reclamation teams. The Mojave Express is not responsible for any injury or loss of life you experience as a result of said reclamation efforts._

“Odd.” he mused. “What was so special about this platinum chip…?” He shook his head. “Not your business, Mitchell. Your job is to bring her back from the brink.”

* * *

When her senses returned to her, it came with a pounding headache and a wince as the light blinded her. Coherent thoughts eluded her as she stirred, closing her eyes tight against the bright light above her. For a moment, she couldn’t remember a thing.

“Ah… you’re awake.”

And just like that, it came back. _Dark. Two Khans and a man in a checkered suit._

_A shot to the head._

She reached to her forehead, and her fingers brushed against a dent covered in stitches-- and immediately, she jerked her fingers away from the wound as it roared in protest at the touch.

“Easy, there,” the voice came-- a calm, seasoned voice belonging to a man as he gently grasped her wrists and guided her into a sitting position, her vision blurry as she tried to open her eyes, “you’ve been out a couple of days, now.”

She blinked. A balding man with a white mustache and a kind, patient smile sat on a chair in front of her patient bed. Her clothes were gone, save for a patient gown that rustled with her movement. He waited as she blinked blearily.

“... Lived?” she breathed in confusion. The man nodded.

“You lived. I’m Doc Mitchell, and you’re in Goodsprings.” He paused; _I suppose now would be a good as time as any to test her memory._ “Can you tell me your name?”

Her mouth was dry, and after a moment, she managed to stammer out her name.

“Lily White.”

“Lily White…” The doc shrugged. “Not the name I’d pick for you, but if that’s your name, that’s your name.”

Lily looked as though she had something more to say, but she elected to purse her lips. No need to get into a long explanation or story-- she barely had the energy to sit up as it was.

“No sense keeping you on the bed,” the doctor said, and gently grasped her hands as she allowed him to pull her to her feet, “let’s get you up and walking so I can see how you’re recovering.”

She wobbled a bit, but stood. He remained at her side and looked over at a machine with a joystick sticking out of the front. “See that Vit-O-Matic over there? Can you see if you can walk there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. Take it slow, now. This ain’t a race.”

He walked alongside her, slowly, steadily, as she walked, one step after another, to the machine. The doctor smiled as she made it. “There we go. Why don’t you give the machine a whirl? See how your vitals are doing.”

Lily turned her attention to the machine and stared for a moment before taking the joystick and moving through it. It took only a few moments to reach the results.

 _Strength - 5._  
_Perception - 6._  
_Endurance - 6._  
_Charisma - 6._  
_Intelligence - 10._  
_Agility - 4._  
_Luck - 3._

“Look at that,” Doc Mitchell whistled, “maybe them bullets done your brain some good.”

Lily laughed softly and smiled at him. He smiled back and waved her along to the adjacent living room, where a couch and lounge chair sat opposite of each other. A stand meant for holding music sheets waited beside the chair. “Come along. I just want to do a few more tests, then you can lay back down.”

The woman frowned as she followed him in. “That’s kind of you, Doc, but I’ve got to--”

“You’re recovering from brain surgery,” he said as she sat on the couch, and he in the lounge seat after gesturing for her to sit, “you, of all people, should know that’s not just something you walk away from.”

She blinked. “Me, of all--” Lily paused and sighed. “Right. I carry that piece of paper around. You, no doubt, looked through my belongings for information.”

The doctor shrugged. “Ain’t anything you had to hide; a medical doctorate from the Shady Sands University Hospital is something to be proud of. Most doctors, especially outside of the NCR, don't have the actual doctorate. I don't; I learned all my stuff in the vault I grew up in.” he said with a grin. “I don’t meet other doctors very often, but…” He frowned. “If you’ve got a MD, why are you working as a courier?”

She hesitated. “That’s… personal. It’s a long story I don’t really want to get into. I intend to go back to the practice of medicine eventually, I’ve just got… _stuff_ to do.”

The doctor frowned, but shrugged. “That’s your business. Now, I’m gonna just run a few tests to see if your dogs are still barking. You may be smart as ever, but it don’t mean those bullets didn’t leave you nuttier than brahmin dung.” He cleared his throat. “Alright. I’m gonna say a word, and you tell me the first thing that comes to mind. Okay?”

“Okay.” she affirmed with a nod. The doctor nodded back.

“Dog.” he started.

“Feed.” she replied.

“House.”

“Shelter.”

“Night.”

“Campfire.”

“Enemy.”

“Stab.”

“Light.”

“Inspiration.”

“Mother.”

Lily hesitated, this time, her eyes quivering a bit, but she cleared her throat. “Caretaker.” she finally said evenly.

“Okay,” he continued, “now, I’ve got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you’d say. First one-- ‘conflict just ain’t in my nature.’”

“... Depends on the conflict.”

“I’ll count that as ‘no opinion’... I ain’t given to relying on others for support.”

“Agree.”

“I’m always fixin’ to be the center of attention.”

“No opinion.”

“I’m slow to embrace new ideas.”

“Strongly disagree.”

“I charge in to deal with my problems head-on.”

“No opinion.”

“Okay.” The doctor picked up a manila folder from the side of the chair and began rifling through some pieces of paper inside as he continued to look at her. “Almost done here.” He placed the first one up on the music stand. “What do you say when you have a look at this? Tell me what you see.”

She stared at the Rorschach test-- dark clouds surrounding bright light in the center. The dark ink reminded her of blood oozing from a wound. “An oozing wound.”

He placed the second one up. “How’s about this one?” he questioned. She gawked at it for a minute-- it was a symmetrical style of black dashes, with one particularly dark line entering a white hole at the top of the dark waves.

“It’s a piece of space-age technology.”

“Last one.” He put up a picture of a black splotch, with a spade-like white void in the middle. “What do you see here?”

“A light in the darkness.”

The doc pulled the images back into his folder and nodded. “Well… that’s all she wrote. I don’t have anything to compare it to, but seems like everything’s mostly intact. You’re a lucky woman.” He pulled some papers out of his files. “I got some medical forms here I’d like you to fill out so I get a sense of your history. I know you’re probably eager to run along, but I want you to stay for another day or two to keep an eye on your health. You’re doing great, but you just came out of a coma.”

“Understood.” Lily said with a sigh. He passed her a pencil and the papers and watched as she quickly ran through the papers and turned them back to him. He looked over the papers and raised an eyebrow.

"You're 26 years old and you got an MD at 24 years old?"  
  
"My tribe sent me to university when I was 16," she explained, "they paid a lot of caps to do so, but that's a story for another day."

The Doc wasn't any less curious, but he nodded. "Alright. Anyways, I don’t have a spare bed in the house, so I hope the couch will be alright.”

“It’s more than fine,” she said, “for all I care, you could put me on the ground. I appreciate you patching me up. Do you mind if I ask a few questions, though?”

“Shoot.”

“Who dug me up?”

“That’d be Victor. He’s a robot that rolls around town.” At her blink of confusion, he chuckled. “You can talk to him later. You’ll see.”

“Right…” She cleared her throat. “Did you hear anything about where my captors went?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t hear about ‘em until after the fact, but some of the townsfolk were saying they were heading east to get back to the Strip, but you’d be better off asking the barkeep about it. She knows more. That’s the most I know about them other than they shot you and stole your package.”

Lily frowned. “Did they take anything else?”

The doc shook his head. “Nope. Just the package.” He frowned. “I know you’re mad at ‘em, but chasing ‘em might just be a suicide mission.”

Lily shrugged. “I have a contract. It’s my job to go get and turn in the package.”

“A contract that almost got you killed. I’d rather you didn’t undo my hard work.” Mitchell bemoaned. “I looked through your belongings trying to find a next of kin, but couldn’t read most of the letters. Do you have any next of kin I could contact to come get you?”

The woman’s eyes darkened, and she looked away glumly. “... No.” she muttered.

“... Alright.” Mitchell sighed. “Just… well, take it easy for a few days. You know, even if you’re hellbent on finishing this contract-- you can stay in Goodsprings if you want. I’m getting pretty old, and it’d be nice to have an extra doctor on-board. I might actually be able to retire.”

Lily looked downward and didn’t respond. “That’s kind of you,” she finally said hesitantly before looking up again, “but I’m on a mission. I’ll consider coming back and working here once I’m done. Not sure how long it’ll take me, but… thanks.” She smiled. “Can I at least help you with any housework as thanks?”

The doctor shook his head. “Kind of you, but no. You need to rest.”

“... Okay.” Lily looked over at his bookshelf. “Is it alright if I borrow a book to read, at least?”

“Sure. Here, I’ll get it for you. You like any genres in particular?”

“Mystery?”

“I’ve got some old Sherlock Holmes stories.”

He passed her a book from the shelf, and she beamed. “Thank you kindly. I don’t think I can thank you enough, Doc.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s what good folk do for each other.”


End file.
